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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23324428">A Court of Songs and Shadows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion'>Lady_Therion</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Childhood Friends, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, Weddings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 16:21:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23324428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Therion/pseuds/Lady_Therion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Lady Therion takes Elriel prompts and writes about death and his lovely fawn. Also tropes — ALL of the tropes. Ratings and tags may vary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Elain Archeron/Azriel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Boys and Flowers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which struggling florist Elain lends a hand to her mysterious "sexy neighbor." (Rated T) </p><p>Inspired by this anon prompt: elain needs help with her flower shop and at the right moment azriel comes around in need of a job and a temporary place to stay(; !</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elain knows that flowers aren’t permanent. </p>
<p>They grow and they die. Then, they do it all over again, season by season. Here’s the real magic: You never encounter the same flower twice. Each one is unique, not unlike people. </p>
<p>Elain knows that people aren’t permanent either. </p>
<p>Take Graysen. Or rather, let’s not. Elain’s memories of him are oil-dark and bitter. In the morning, she opens her planner and marks down the number of days since “the unspeakable incident.” Today’s tally is 43. In the margins, she writes, “I’m not numb anymore. Just sad.” Which is progress. Feyre would throw her a party. Nesta would buy her a drink.</p>
<p>But neither of her sisters are here. They are far away in a different state, still wondering about Elain’s decision to move and open her own flower shop. They ask a lot of sensible questions: Why open a small business in this economy? Why not just work for a local florist? What are you going to do about rent? </p>
<p>It’s fair for them to worry. Money is a sore subject in their family. But Elain stands by her decision. The reason for leaving is simple: She’s tired of playing a role in someone else’s story. Here, in a town where almost no one knows her, she has the space to learn what her story is really about. </p>
<p>All her life, Elain has been waiting to meet herself. </p>
<p>Now she’s got her chance.</p>
<p>On a less philosophical note, her sisters are still right about money. Business is good, but she’s been having trouble keeping up with orders, which has been eating away at her bottom line. Her inbox is a disappointment. There are no applications for a potential assistant. Location is probably an issue. Her flower shop isn’t by any convenient public transit.</p>
<p>She chews her lip; a bad habit. What would she do if she couldn’t reach a sustainable quota? Her savings are fine, but they can only get her so far. Would she need to take out a loan? Could she even afford the interest? How long would it be before she goes into the red…? </p>
<p>A swift knock at the door interrupts her downward spiral. Elain freezes. There’s only one person in this town who actually comes to visit. </p>
<p>Over Zoom, Feyre calls him “the sexy neighbor.” </p>
<p>Nesta calls him “the nuisance.” </p>
<p>Elain just knows him as Azriel.  </p>
<p>He lives in the apartment next door. The first time they met was over a noise complaint; her noise complaint. Azriel himself isn’t particularly loud. But his lady friends? Just thinking about the sounds they made caused the blood rush to her cheeks (and other places). </p>
<p>Obviously, Azriel is very generous in that area. </p>
<p>But generous or not, Elain wasn’t about to lose any more sleep. </p>
<p>
  <em> Hi, I’m Elain. Your new neighbor.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Ah. I’m Azriel. A pleasure.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Right...pleasure.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> How are you liking the new —?  </em>
</p>
<p><em> — Did you know our bedrooms share the same </em> <b> <em>very thin</em> </b> <em> wall?  </em></p>
<p>
  <em> I….what…?  </em>
</p>
<p>Did she regret bringing it up so abruptly? Yes. But constant sleep deprivation had already frayed her patience. It didn’t matter that Azriel literally looked like one of those Greek statues on display at the Louvre. It didn’t matter that he had eyes and tattoos and muscles that could stop traffic.  </p>
<p>Elain may have lost her way in a lot of things. </p>
<p>But she did not lose her manners. </p>
<p>And she would <em> absolutely </em> hold her neighbors to the same standard. </p>
<p>She can remember how Azriel blushed to the tips of his ears as he stammered an apology. The next day, there was a bouquet of flowers left on her doorstep (and a pair of ear plugs, the scoundrel). But after that, there were no more lady friends (that she could hear, anyway, with or without the ear plugs). </p>
<p>As part of their truce, they would invite each other over for brunch at least once a week. It gives Elain something to look forward to. Especially since she still hasn’t met anyone else here. </p>
<p>Besides, she finds his presence soothing. He doesn’t ask her too many questions. She doesn’t ask him in turn. Elain gets the sense that they’re both living from moment to moment. Or that they’re both running from something that they can’t give voice to. Maybe someday, they would. </p>
<p>Azriel’s broody eyes gleam when she opens the door. </p>
<p>And no, it doesn’t make her heart race.<em> It does not.  </em></p>
<p>“Elain.” </p>
<p>He never says “hey” or “hi there” when he sees her. He just says her name, then smiles. Not a toothpaste commercial smile either. His smiles are quiet and tentative things, like he isn’t used to doing them often. That he would always make an effort for her in this way brings her inexplicable joy. Like watching the sun suddenly appear on a gray afternoon.</p>
<p>“Want some coffee?”  </p>
<p>“I’m getting evicted.” </p>
<p>Elain’s heart drops to her feet. She opens the door a little wider. “Want something a little stronger?”</p><hr/>
<p>Turns out their landlord is a jerk. </p>
<p>“So you were dating his ex?” </p>
<p>Azriel drains his glass. “Dating is kind of a strong word.” </p>
<p>“Hn.” Well, who is Elain to judge? “That doesn’t really seem like grounds to evict someone.” In fact, Elain is pretty sure that whatever’s going on is illegal. She thinks about calling her father. Being a businessman himself, he could probably put Azriel in touch with a good lawyer. </p>
<p>Azriel waves away her offer. “It was bound to happen anyway. People are petty. And cruel.” </p>
<p>Elain thinks of Graysen. She thinks about the scars on Azriel’s hands. The scars they never talk about. Yes, people can be cruel. But people can also be kind. The fact that Azriel takes the worst of humanity for granted saddens her more than anything else. </p>
<p>She doesn’t want to lose him as her neighbor. </p>
<p>“Where will you go?” </p>
<p>“I could move in with one of my brothers for a while.” He tells her where they live. Her anxiety deepens. They’re just as far away as her sisters. “I don’t want to bother you with this either, but some of my contracts fell through. Even if I could stay here, I wouldn’t be able to make the rent.” </p>
<p>Elain swallows. There are moments in life that one calls turning points. Turn one way, it will become this. Turn another way, and it will become that. There is no way to tell which path is the right choice. But although Elain isn’t blessed with future sight, she is blessed with a sense of indomitable compassion.</p>
<p>She proposes a plan.</p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>“You can live here,” she says again. </p>
<p>The silence that follows could rival graveyards. “Elain...I can’t do that. How would I pay you?” </p>
<p>She tells him about the shop. </p>
<p>“I don’t know anything about flowers.” </p>
<p>“I’ll teach you.” </p>
<p>“Elain —” </p>
<p>“It’s temporary,” she insists. It’s a good thing all Archerons were born with an iron-clad persistence gene. “You can stay in the spare bedroom until you figure out your next move.” When he doesn’t say anything else, she adds, “You won’t be freeloading. You’ll be helping me out. I can’t fulfill as many orders without an assistant.” </p>
<p>“I...don’t you think it’ll be weird? Sharing a space?” </p>
<p>“On my life, I promise to keep your virtue intact,” she deadpans.</p>
<p>Azriel laughs. A deep, deep sound that comes from his belly. It is, quite literally, the most glorious thing Elain ever heard. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” he says. “This is....I can’t even describe how gracious this is.” </p>
<p>Elain’s body does not at all respond to this compliment in a tingly, somersault-y, or gushy way. Nope, that rush of happy warmth is probably something else. The sign of early menopause, perhaps. She should see a doctor.</p>
<p>“So it’s a deal?” She sticks out her hand. </p>
<p>Azriel’s hazel eyes light with something she can’t describe. He reaches out to lace his ruined fingers with hers, every mark and ridge a map to something that Elain feels intent to discover. </p>
<p>“It’s a deal.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, loves. I am lady-therion on tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Somewhere Only We Know</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In which Elain and Azriel say "I do" on their own terms. (Rated T)</p><p>Inspired by this prompt from empress-ofbloodshed: "A modern day Elriel wedding where they run away to a little church to get married because everyone is putting too much pressure on them about their wedding that has to be perfect."</p><p>BTW — this one turned out so sugary that I’ll have to schedule a dentist appt. ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Church of Little Ways still stands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Its original name was St. Therese, the Little Flower. But over time, it became Little Ways. Although it closed its doors to parishioners years ago, no one had the heart to tear it down. In fact, the locals still tend the vegetable garden that grows beside it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elain is one of those locals. She comes here on weekends to check on the beets and the radishes and the cabbages. But today, her visit is unexpected. Today, she has come here to hide from the world — or more specifically, her family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long shadow stretches across the blooming marigolds. Marigolds are good for discouraging pests, but Elain welcomes the presence of her fiance, Azriel, with open arms and a deep kiss. They drink each other in as the twilight fades around them. Their lips and fingers explore all their favorite places... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Azriel has always been very unselfish with her in this regard. He lets her take the lead. He indulges her when she wants more. And she </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>wants more. But right now, she lets their kiss simmer; a flame as soft and sweet as their childhood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon, the fireflies would be out, drifting along the tall grass, lighting the way home. Elain and Azriel used to catch them when they were young. They would stay up long into the night until her father called them both from the porch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go inside” he asks, tugging at the end of her ear with his teeth. He’s in a playful mood and it makes her shiver with anticipation for later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling nostalgic?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little,” he says. Then he leads her into the church, past the caution tape at the front doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, the church is hushed and reverent. A fine layer of dust coats the hardwood pews. Dried flowers are placed at the foot of the altar where the two of them stand. Azriel loops his arms around her shoulders, seeking her scent and reassurance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elain understands why: This is the place where she found him all those years ago. He’d been just a little boy then. Lonely and scared and very, very hurt. So she had brought him home with her and they had never parted since. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get married here,” she says. Their siblings would murder them for not having the wedding of the century like they wanted, but who cares? They’d forgive them.They always did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should get married now,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not serious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m dead serious,” he says. “Remember when we were seven and we played pretend at getting married here after Sunday school?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. “I remember saying that I’d be with you forever and that I’d share my buttermilk biscuits.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...does that promise still stand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elain hates how he braces himself as though she’d say no. “It does. But I think the buttermilk biscuits are off the table now that I’ve taught you how to make your own.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says, shifting so that she could nuzzle his neck. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. I’ve got something much, much better than buttermilk biscuits in store for you…”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, loves. I am lady-therion on tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. With You, in the Shadows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Elain stays by Azriel's side. (Rated M) </p>
<p>Inspired by this prompt from candid-confetti: “Dandelions ARE weeds” (In light of spring and how those yellow monsters are coming to plague us ALL)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I decided that I wanted to cut out hearts today. Slightly NSFW.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elain knows that her lover can be cold. </p>
<p>Colder than the unforgiving winters spent in her father’s cottage. Colder than the unfathomable depths of the Cauldron. Colder than death. For even death can be merciful and Azriel is not. She knows that he’s not. </p>
<p>But she lies with him anyway. He may be as sharp as a dagger’s edge, but he has always been soft with her. His family. </p>
<p>“You’re a gleam in the dark,” he told her one night, driving into her body at a slow and torturous pace. He consumed her, devoured her, engraved every sigh and scream into his memory. When it comes to her pleasure, Azriel is attentive, precise. “I will never stop craving you.” </p>
<p>It’s true. He never did.</p>
<p>But for all his boundless devotion, his hatred is immutable; as much a part of him as his shadows are. He hides it well. He’s had centuries of practice. To enemies, it appears as a mask of civility and decorum. In fact, the angrier he grew, the more charming his mask became. The time to truly fear him is not when he snarls or clenches his fist. It’s when he greets you with a courtier’s smile and a deferential bow. Elain knows this because she wore that mask too, once upon a time. In ballrooms, in dining halls, in champagne parlors. It is the perfect tool for a spymaster to trap unwitting flies.  </p>
<p>Though what Azriel could conceal from others, he could not do so with her. They share no bond. They share something else — she is the only living being who can hear the song of his shadows.    </p>
<p>Today that song is filled with discord. So when she finds him in their garden, still as a statue, she bids him to lie in the grass and place his head on her lap. Then she smooths over his hair until he thaws.</p>
<p>Then he thaws.</p>
<p>“My father’s wife did not keep a garden,” he tells her, slowly. </p>
<p><em>His father’s wife</em>, she thought, <em>the woman who kept him locked away because she abhorred his mother.</em> </p>
<p>“When I was...released for the day, they would take me in chains to stand in a stone courtyard. I yearned to see the sun, just as I yearn to see you.” He twists a curl of her hair around his fingers. “Besides that, I saw dandelions growing through the rock. Green and growing things did not thrive in my cell. So I did not know what they were. I asked my half-brothers if they were flowers.” He paused. “Then they told me no, they were dandelions. They are weeds, and are unwanted. Just like you.” </p>
<p>Elain does not offer him platitudes or pity. She knows this is not what he needs. No, what her beloved needs is for someone to see his pain, to honor it, and know that it will be with him forever. Just like his scars. </p>
<p>“I had a childish wish that I could be like those dandelions. To be able to drift away, somewhere else on the wind.” He closes his eyes when she leans down to kiss him. <em>I’m here</em>, her kiss says. <em>I’m with you. </em></p>
<p>“Elain,” he whispers, like a prayer. “Why do you stay?” </p>
<p>He asks her this from time to time, especially when he feels melancholy. </p>
<p>Because she had once been a fixture in those glittering and golden worlds, and found them false and wanting. Because she had once put her faith in a man who would rather cherish his self-righteousness than cherish her as a wife. Because she had fallen in love with the darkness, as her younger sister did, and realized that she had never felt safer than in the arms of the abyss.</p>
<p>“Because I would rather be here with you, in the shadows.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks for reading, loves. I am lady-therion on tumblr.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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